Trusting the process
I recently found myself in Portland, OR. Enough cannot be said about the fresh air and tall trees that welcome and remind you to breathe on a moment to moment basis. I highly recommend breathing regularly.
Having escaped the (early) summer swelter in Texas for the temperate climes of the Pacific Northwest for a few days… it felt like a different world entirely.
It brings me great joy to walk through unfamiliar spaces: to see something for the very first time. As I explored the neighborhoods, I was taken by the architecture, the chirps of unfamiliar birds, the abundance of fresh flowers, and so much more. I found myself asking… how many more stairs can there possibly be? do the water fountains keep flowing all night long? how much coffee/Thai food/pastry is too much?
All said, it is good to take a break and explore new things. Whether that’s a new park in your hometown, an old church on the other side of the city, a temporary exhibit at your favorite art gallery, or the herb garden on your porch - all bring the opportunity to see something new. And that brings a fresh perspective.
Stop. Breathe. Trust.
Many years ago, when I was living in New York, I was in rehearsal for a play and couldn’t quite grasp “the heart” of the character I was playing. So I took a break from the struggle and went to visit my favorite halls of the Met. (Side note: thank God I lived in the city and could visit whenever I wanted, because how could anyone really see anything in that museum in just a couple of hours?) I had been looking at the same painting for over an hour: examining the strokes, the color variations, thinking about how old the artist was when this painting was birthed, and how I knew what was ahead of them… but they did not. I noticed people coming into the room, glancing at the nameplates, then moving to the next work of art to do the same. I was absolutely appalled. How could they not even look at the paintings? I felt something roil up in my gut… and then realized I had found my character's heart! I found her passion and drive, her desire to make people see what was directly in front of them, I found her sadness when they can’t. In dropping the “work” of finding her, she showed herself to me. What a beautiful lesson!
My newfound love of the PNW will no doubt weave its way subconsciously into my work in the weeks ahead. Like all things I absorb, they eventually find their way out creatively.
